How to Heal a Broken God
by 2AMhypoxic
Summary: Izaya is an information broker with a god complex. Sly, manipulative and sadistic, he has an excess of enemies. It was only a matter of time before it all caught up with him. Who is the one who finds him when he is at his breaking point? Shizuo, the one he thinks is his greatest enemy of all. (noncon, rape, violence, angst and fluff.)
1. Chapter 1

The man with the eye patch had large beefy hands and sausage fingers. It seized him by the throat and hoisted him up against the wall. He could feel the bricks imprinting themselves into his back. His feet dangled in the air, and he tried to push up against the brick with his toes to clear his airway. His thin fingers clawed futilely against the hand around his throat.

"You look good like this," the man hissed in his face, spittle flying out between rotting teeth. The man had an eye patch and he smelled like booze.

"C-can't breathe," gasped Izaya. "Your breathe…smells too bad."

It was the wrong thing to say. Izaya realized it when a hand flew across his face. Still, he couldn't stop the feeling of satisfaction he got from the way the man's face turned red. He couldn't stop the way the sly smile that curled up one side of his mouth wouldn't go away.

The man squeezed his throat until Izaya's vision went black, and right before he passed out the man dropped him. Izaya landed on the ground at the man's feet, his vision gradually clearing. He was coughing and gasping in air and spitting up blood because the inside of his mouth was cut from the slap.

Izaya shakily got to his feet, legs like jelly. "Hey man," he said, straightening his back and fixing his fur-lined hoody. He smeared bangs out of his face. "I don't know what your issue is or who you are, but obviously you have something against me." He cracked a smile. "But I'm a really lovable guy, and I try to stay f-"

His voice was cut off when a fist the size of his face flashed out and hit the wall beside him, splintering bricks. His eyes went wide and he blinked up at the man glaring at him. "Th-that was dangerous," reprimanded Izaya. "You shouldn-"

The second fist found its way into his solar plexus, and he doubled over, gasping. Fuck, it hurt.

"You don't remember me?" barked the man. The fist pulled back, then hit him again in the same spot. "You don't remember how you turned me over to the Red Patch gang as a spy? How much did you get for telling them that? Was it worth this?" His fist landed in Izaya's stomach again. Izaya would have crumbled to the ground but he was being held up by his hair.

So this was all about gang drama. Izaya should have known. "Some people," gasped Izaya, "are so unreasonably sensitive about such things."

"You ruined my life!" cried the man. "They took my fucking eyeball!" He yanked off his eyepatch and there was a red empty socket staring at Izaya, two inches from his own eye. It had yellow pus in it and it smelled like rot.

Izaya flinched. "I think you ought to disinfect it," he advised.

The man grabbed the front of Izaya's shirt and tore it off in one motion.

"I know all about you." the man screamed, his one good eye was bloodshot and bulging in anger. "I know what you do. I know people have killed themselves because of you, and that you enjoy it. I know you like finding out people's secrets and exposing them. And now I'm going to punish you. I'll make sure you remember me this time. You won't be able to hurt anyone ever again, because you'll be so broken and so scared you'll be the one jumping off buildings."

Izaya wasn't sure what the man was going to do, but he definitely didn't expect the man to lean in and start to lick and bite his ear.

Izaya yelped and twisted. "Is this unrequited love?" he asked. "Or did I sleep with your wife and this is revenge?"

The man didn't reply.

Izaya was still sarcastic and slightly amused. This oaf was angry, but he was just a stupid human with a lot of muscle and no iq. Once Izaya found a way to get away he'd have a good laugh at this whole thing, and he'd find some satisfying way to get revenge, too.

He didn't start to panic until the man pulled out a pair of handcuffs and locked both of his thin wrists in one side. That was when Izaya felt his heart beat a bit faster, and when his sly smile faltered slightly.

There was pipes running down the side of the building and the man clipped the other handcuff to a pipe over his head.

"You have beautiful white skin," the man whispered. His eyes were glazed with lust as he looked down at Izaya. "I can hardly believe you're not a girl."

"My mom always told me I was beautiful," admitted Izaya.

The man ignored his comment and yanked down Izaya's pants and boxers in one pull.

The man looked back up at Izaya to smile sweetly. "Soon you won't have any more witty comments. You won't be able to do anything but scream," he said, grinning.

The man pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. "Do you remember Bert Garsser?" he asked, dialing a number.

Izaya blanched. He wished he didn't, but he did. Three months ago Bert's brother had committed suicide. It wasn't Izaya's fault, exactly, but Izaya was there.

"Hey, Bert," the man said, "I got 'im. Yeah. Ok see you soon. You know the spot. Tell Mike Tao."

Mike Tao, The name sounded familiar. Who was he? Oh yeah. He had the hot girlfriend Izaya slept with about a year ago. Oh, he had a hot sister too. Izaya had slept with her a few months ago. Satisfactory all things considered, but she didn't swallow if he remembered correctly.

Fuck, this wasn't going to be good.

The man tweaked Izaya's nipple. "Looks like you have a lot of enemies," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

TRIGGER WARNING: extreme descriptions of rape. noncon. You have been warned.

He was a pale boy with black hair and eyes and ribs that stuck out too far. His chest rose and fell in big gasping breaths, like a fish out of water. He was a god and the world was his pawn. But only with his clothes on.

Strip him down and stick a dick or five in his mouth and his true character was exposed, whimpering and begging and pleading and tears in his eyes, and it wasn't him, but it was, and he never knew he could be this way.

It was pathetic, really. He was pathetic. And he wished he would stop seeing himself in third person, but he couldn't. Who was this little naked boy writhing in pain and being violated? He didn't recognize this person. How pathetic. How sad. Oh right, it's him.

A chant traveled through his head, and it never stopped. "This is gross, I'm gross, it hurts so bad, this is filthy, I'm so filthy."

It's always a surprise when humans turn on their god. After all, a god is only a god when he has worshippers.

"Fuck, it's so good," the man breathed, his hips pumping, hitting the back of Izaya's throat with his length.

The man came, his whole body relaxing and a satisfied sigh leaving his mouth.

"My turn," another man said, stepping up, pushing the other guy out of the way.

Izaya had stopped paying attention to faces or identities or numbers. He didn't want to know who they were or what they had against him. He didn't want to know why his humans wanted to trample on their god. He only knew that there was a lot of them.

And they kept on coming. And they never seemed to end.

A new dick was suddenly in his face, and he noticed this one because it was bigger than all the others.

The man tried to cram it into Izaya's mouth but it wouldn't fit. The man cursed.

He looked at the tears oozing down Izaya's cheeks. "Damn, you can't even fit the

fucking head in? I'll make it fit," he muttered.

He slammed Izaya's head into the ground and pressed on the outside of Izaya's jaw below the ear.

His jaw dislocated with a pop and the guy's dick went into his mouth.

"I wanna do his hole," said someone from behind Izaya. "A hole is a hole, even if he is a guy. And damn, feel how tight he is." Izaya squirmed at the unfamiliar sensation of a finger entered his backside, but he couldn't cry out because his mouth was so full.

"If you do it I'll do it," the man he was currently sucking said. "I mean I'm not gay, but if you go first..."

The man began to push into him, and red filled Izaya's vision as an overwhelming sense of pain shot up his body.

"Wait, stop!" the man he was sucking said. The man pulled out of his mouth and stepped back, palming his length. For a brief second Izaya thought the man would save him. "Don't pound him without lube when he's sucking me off or he'll bite off my cock when it hurts!" He grabbed Izaya's shirt off the ground and crammed it into his mouth and down his throat.

"Fuck, he's so tight," the man behind him moaned. "Feels so good." He pulled out and pushed in again, forced his way through. Izaya felt like he was breaking apart. The man began to pound harder, and Izaya could see blackness swimming in-front of his eyes.

"Hurry up, I'm still hard and I need to finish."

"Shit, he's feeling it too!"

Someone touched his dick and Izaya jerked in surprise.

"Fuck, there's no way! What a perv! Pain isn't the only thing he's feeling!"

Izaya was shocked himself, but it was true, and he wished it wasn't. Shame washed over him.

"Don't let him come," said the man, and something was being tied around Izaya's cock.

As the man found his prostate the pain in his dick increased with the physical pleasure building up.

He wanted to come. He wanted to come so bad, but he couldn't. And it hurt, it hurt so much. Everything did.

More people entered him from behind. They chained his arms back up over his head on the pipe, and they fucked him as he hung there. He thought he was dying, and sometimes the pain overwhelmed him to the point where he passed out, but he didn't die, and he wished he could, but he always came back to consciousness again.

And Izaya realized something. He was no longer a god, that had already been established. But he had been dehumanized to the point that he was no longer human, either. He was a play toy, a sex doll and the only thing he could feel was pain.

Someone else was approaching. Izaya could tell because the man pounding him yelled, "Hey, wanna join the party?"

There was no reply, and things went quiet.

And then, through his dwindling senses, Izaya heard the sounds of bones crunching and muted screams.

Blackness flooded his vision again, and when he came to he was alone with only one man standing in front of him.

Iaya's arms were strapped up and his head hung down, and with great difficulty he lifted his head enough to recognize the face of the person staring down at him.

It was Shizou. And if there was one person on earth who deserved to hate him, it was Shizou. Of all the people Izaya tortured, of all the people that hated him, Shizou was the first on the list.

Shizou stared down at the boy in front of him in shock. Was this really that shitty flea that he hated so much? The one that always wore that mocking smirk, the one who always had a witty remark? Of all the people he knew, Izaya was the proudest. He could no longer recognize the person in front of him, reduced to a broken mess. He had blood leaking between his legs and his face was black and blue and covered with semon. He hung from the handcuffs holding him up, and his thin pale body was stretched out, marred with markings.

When Izaya recognized him he cried out, and the cry was shrill and panicked, like a child in absolute terror.

He tried to pull back. The handcuffs jingled and cut at his wrists, holding him in place. "No more!" he cried, begging. "P-please." He didn't want to be raped again, not by this man. He had no pride left. There was nothing in him to respect anymore. But he didn't want to be violated by Shizuo as well.

A sob broke his throat, and he couldn't breath with panic.

Shizuo was frozen with shock at the sight of Izaya. And then all of a sudden he snapped back, as if waking up from a dream.

"Hold on, I'm going to get you out of here."

He grabbed at one of the unconscious bodies at his feet and began rummaging in the man's pockets for a key to the handcuffs.

"It hurts!" sobbed Izaya.

"What hurts?" asked Shizuo, before realizing what a stupid question that was. "I'm going to get you out of here."

"N-no, first help. D-down there."

Shizuo looked down at the trembling boy and realized that Izaya's cock was rock hard and tied up.

Izaya's face was red with embarrassment that he somehow still managed to feel and his teeth were clenched in pain. He bucked his hips and pushed his knees together, whimpering, looking for friction, dying for release.

Shizuo laid a hand on Izaya's shoulder. "Hold still, I'll help you."

He undid the ribbon with his other hand, Izaya moaning and crying and arching his back at the touch of his fingers.

He was coming before the ribbon was even all the way off. He was apologizing before he was even done releasing. Semon shot into Shizuo's hand and onto his chest. "I'm sorry," gasped Izaya, tears pouring out of his eyes. "Sorry, I can't hold it."

Nothing was this embarrassing. Nothing was as shameful as shooting off into his enemies hand. Nothing was as shameful as getting hard from rape. He wondered what Shizou thought of him. He wondered at how much of a perverted disgusting child Shizou thought he was. And then wondered how he could still care about anything at all, especially this. But he did care.

And he wanted to die. He wanted to die. He wanted to die.

"It's okay," said Shizou. "It's alright, don't worry, you can't help it. You can come."

But the words didn't penetrate through the thoughts of "I want to die" traveling through Izaya's head.

There was a click, and the handcuffs fell off. Izaya fell forward and landed in Shizou's strong arms, spent from release. And darkness engulfed him.


	3. Chapter 3

ch. 3

WARNING: rape, noncon, suicidal behavior, bdsm themes. Also angst and fluff.

The sight alone was enough to make him angry. The flash of his white teeth, the malicious glint in his eyes, the way he twirled on his feet with his hands in the air, mocking, always mocking. Words would tumble out of his mouth, words that would make Shizuo's blood boil with rage, and then, right before Shizuo could crush him into the asphalt, he would side-step with a laugh and flitter away, cackling as he did so.

Trying to catch him was like trying to thread a needle while having a seizure. That is to say, impossible. Even for Shizuo.

Izaya seemed to know it, too. He knew the effect he had on people, and he loved it. He loved to make Shizuo lose control and give in to the violence he so detested. He loved to make the man scream in frustration at the top of his lungs and grab the nearest object to chuck at him. Shizuo was perhaps his favorite human to play with because the man was so easily provoked. Izaya knew every button to push that would make him lose control and turn into beast mode and he delighted in pushing those buttons. It wasn't hard.

Shizuo always knew when Izaya was around because of the smell. Shizuo had a keen sense of smell, but Izaya's scent was something that Shizuo learned he could pick up anywhere.

It was somewhat wintery, like mountain air, and musky, like abandoned buildings. And infuriating, like when you first find out that elves don't live on the north pole, and Santa doesn't have a naughty list, and that dollar was from your parents and not the tooth fairy after all.

That is to say, Izaya smelled to Shizuo like the crushing of childhood dreams and everything bad in the world.

That is how Shizuo found Izaya behind the abandoned factory in the first place. He had been walking home from his bar-tending job at 3 AM when he noticed the smell of Izaya. Next he recognized the coppery smell of blood. The two ingredients did not abide well together, so he went to investigate, hoping for an opportunity to crush the flea.

He never knew it was possible for the flea to be so utterly crushed.

He had dreamed of it plenty of times, sure. He dreamed of the flea lying in a pile of his own blood, sadistic smirk finally erased off of his face. He dreamed of grabbing that head in his two hands and crushing it like an egg. Because Shizuo hated violence, but he hated Izaya more.

Even though Shizuo dreamed and wished for this, he never actually expected such a thing to happen in reality. It was beyond comprehension. And so, for the longest time, he refused to believe it was Izaya before him so utterly broken. Because that couldn't be Izaya.

He looked so fragile, so childish naked. His body was thin and white and his muscles were taut from hanging. His hair was black and glistening with sweat as it fell over his bowed face. The blood dripping down from between his legs was shockingly red on that white skin, like when you squeeze a fistful of cherries and the red liquid oozes down your arm.

The way his chest expanded with each labored breath reminded Shizuo of a bird beating against a cage. And for the longest time Shizuo could only stare in denial.

This could not be Izaya.

There was no way someone like him could look like something like this.

But there was no mistaking that scent.

Shizuo removed the handcuffs holding Izaya up and caught him before he crumpled to the ground. Izaya's naked body was warm; hot even. Shizuo couldn't help but awkwardly notice this. He was holding the naked boy in his arms, after all. He didn't know how anything could feel so fragile, or how tremors could wreck a body so violently.

It was so different than his dreams of a defeated Izaya. He told himself it was because Izaya had been defeated by other people and not by his own hands. Normally Shizuo would not hesitate to finish the job. And yet there was a strange absence of anger on Shizuo's part. In fact, he felt no violence strengthening his muscles at all.

Izaya's scent was overpowering as he lay in Shizou's arm. Never before had Shizuo caught Izaya. Never before had their bodies been so close. Never before had the scent of Izaya existed without the correlation of blinding rage debilitating Shizuo's better judgement.

Shizuo was shocked when Izaya picked himself up and stood upon his own feet. He stood, looking crooked and bent and swaying as if he would crumble any second. His hair hung over his eyes, shadowing his face. And yet a smile was back, albeit smaller and trembling.

"Sh-shizou," he said, holding up his hands in the old-fashioned way, sans trembling. "Didn't you want to try out my dirty hole?"

"The fuck you talking about?" demanded Shizuo, genuinely bewildered. And yet his eyes couldn't help but sink and take note of the blood, still trickling. He was overcome with nausea.

"Isn't it your dream to defile me?" laughed Izaya. His voice was high pitched, his laugh sounding more like a strangled scream or a sob. "Or am I too filthy for even my worst enemy to want to destroy me?"

"Shut up," demanded Shizuo. He could feel himself growing angry now, but for a different reason than normal. "You don't know what you're saying."

Izaya shrugged and bent to pick up his coat that was trampled into the pavement. Shizuo thought he would fall when he bent over, but he somehow managed to retain his balance.

Izaya turned around as if to leave. "I thought I knew everything about you, my beloved human, and yet you somehow managed to shock me. How interesting. How unexpected." He chuckled.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" demanded Shizuo to Izaya's departing figure. "You're fucking naked and you're bleeding."

"To finish the job since you won't," muttered Izaya. "They said I would. Find a building, you know. They were right. A god isn't a god without worshipers, after all."

What was going on? Izaya was going to kill himself? Shizuo cursed at Izaya's departing figure. He didn't know how to respond, so he reverted back to his characteristic anger. He was angry, so angry. Possibly more angry than ever before. The flea should just go and die. Everyone knew that was what he deserved. And yet Shizuo was angry, and he couldn't control himself when angry.

That was Shizuo's excuse when he tore off his jacket and stormed forward towards Izaya. That was what he told himself when he threw his jacket over Izaya's narrow shoulders and swept him off his feet and into his arms.

"W-what?" gasped Izaya, struggling feebly. He was like a small bird compared to Shizuo's strength, completely immobilized. And yet Shizuo still held him gently, shamefully like a baby.

"Shuddup!" Shizuo practically yelled. His mind was made up. Nothing could change his mind now. After all, he was angry. Enraged, even. He stared straight ahead and his stride was fast and purposeful.

"Th-the fuck you taking me?" cried Izaya, and his voice was suddenly wobbly, and choked with tears. "Put me down."

"You're in shock and so you are not in your right mind to make judgments concerning yourself," responded Shizuo. Than added, "At least that is what I'm pretty sure Shinra would say. But I'll double check with him soon, anyway."


	4. Chapter 4

WARNING: EXTREME fluff, angst, descriptions of after-rape, talk of suicide and really kinky stuff, some fluff. leave comments or whatever it is you do here, people.

For Izaya, time was glitching like an old tv screen. Blackness, then he would notice small things: The dim shine of a street lamp, the thumping of Shizuo's heart. The quietness of the night being interrupted by a cat's meowing on a stone ledge close by. A man stabbing into him. Heavy breathing, clammy hands.

No, it was Shizuo's hands.

Shizuo was helping him.

The present moment was jumbled with the recent past, but most of his sensations gave over to the pain that wracked his body and mind and transcended even into the blackness of his flickering consciousness.

He was outside on the streets and then there was a glitch and he was inside a building, and resting in a bed.

Shizuo was talking in the other room, but not to him. He was on a phone. Izaya heard snippets of the conversation through his hazy mind. "...bleeding…beaten but mostly...suicidal….but I can't! When will you be back?!" This part was mostly yelled. There was silence for a while after that, and then, "for how long?"

Izaya heard something bang in the other room, and he jumped. He assumed Shizuo punched a wall or threw something. Footsteps. Shizuo was in the room, calmer now.

"Hey, how you feeling?" he asked, voice gruff, as if he was trying to speak gently but was not used to it. It almost made Izaya want to laugh.

"That is a rather pointless question to ask," muttered Izaya. He didn't like to have Shizuo standing over him as he lay there so he attempted to pull himself up into a sitting position, but the attempt proved more painful than it was worth. "However I'd like to wash before going home."

He wanted more than a bath, for it would take more than a bath to rid himself of the filth. He had a sudden desire to skin himself alive, and then separate each of his muscles, and maybe if he sanitized every cell of his body he could be reassembled and stitched back together and feel clean again. Maybe..

Shizuo's brow wrinkled. "I talked to Shinra, but he's working in another part of the city for a week. He gave me directions, however." Shizuo's voice cracked, and he looked downright uncomfortable. "I'm going to be your, eh, caregiver. And don't think I'm happy about it either. He said you are not to leave or be unsupervised, as your mental health is compromised and of the utmost priority. Something like that."

"W-what's that mean?" demanded Izaya, suddenly feeling trapped. "Does it mean you're gonna chain me to the bed?"

He was being sarcastic but Shizuo took him seriously, the fucking protozoan. "I don't know about chaining you, but I at least have to keep an eye on you, maybe tie you up at night. Just until Shinra and I are convinced you are mentally stable." He paused. "Not that you ever were to begin with," he added.

Rage filled Izaya, and he squeezed the blanket underneath him in white-knuckled fists. This bumbling idiot and his friend, there were no suitable words to curse them.

"I'm going to start the bath," said Shizuo, departing into the other room, leaving Izaya to his rage.

Izaya slowly slid his legs over the edge of the bed and rested his hand on the wall. He was thankful Shizuo wasn't there to see this. Every movement hurt. Part of him wanted to run to the door and escape, but making any sudden movements was as impossible as flying at the moment.

"The bath is full," mumbled Shizuo, walking into the room. He stopped at the doorway, his eyes narrowing in on Izaya.

"Sh-shit," cursed Izaya. He was standing by the bed, his hand grasping the wall. His knees were wobbling so out of control that he knew if he took one more step he would crumble. He could feel a new bubble of blood and semen dislodging itself inside him to dribble down his thighs. New bruises were emerging, and his white body was covered with the beginnings of harsh blue markings.

He could only imagine how pathetic he looked. He wanted to die. His face was turned to the side but it didn't hide the burning of his cheeks. "D-don't look," he pleaded, holding out one hand palm-up in Shizuo's direction. It was futile anyway. Izaya knew that Shizuo had already seen. And he was most scared of the look of disgust and absolute revolution that he was sure would be in Shizuo's eyes.

Footsteps approached, and then he was being swept off his feet. He covered his face with his hands as he was carried into the bathroom and lowered into warm water. One of Shizuo's hands rested on his back, supporting him up in a sitting position. The other was, Izaya was horrified to find, beginning to soap his torso.

'I-I can do it myself!" Izaya weakly protested.

"I have to do this," muttered Shizuo. Izaya caught a glimpse of his face then, and he saw that Shizuo was blushing with embarrassment, but there was a look of calm determination in his eyes tinged with pity. "Shinra and I spoke together, He's not here right now, so it's up to me to do this."

Shizuo washed his hair and his back and his torso and from his knees down. Izaya grew more agitated as the dirty places grew less. He was about to say something, but Shizuo beat him to it.

"This next part is going to be hard for you, but Shinra told me what to look for. You can either accept it without struggling, or I'll restrain you if I have to."

Izaya was trembling. The water suddenly didn't seem so warm. He could feel terror leaking into his muscles, paralyzing him in place.

Shizuo laid a hand on his bony shoulder. His hand was so large it hung over the sides. It was scary, but it was warm too.

"It's okay, you can trust me," whispered Shizuo.

It wasn't like he had a choice, anyway. Yet that one sentence was enough to compel Izaya to lurch forward. He thrust his arms around Shizuo and laid his head over his shoulder, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. "H-hurry up, I'm scared!" he gasped, trembling.

Shizuo was gentle washing his backside. He only touched when he had to. He kneaded the lower part of Izaya's stomach to expel any lingering semen and washed it away with the shower hose.

He wrapped Izaya in a towel and carried him back to bed, where he laid him on his stomach.

The sensation of being face-down made Izaya immediately attempt to right himself, but Shizuo pushed his head back onto the bed.

A million flashbacks flickered across his mind in that instant, and he was there again, behind the factory. So many hands on him, in him.

"It's okay," Shizuo said to the panicking body beneath him. "I won't hurt you."

Izaya's heart was beating out of his chest and he couldn't breathe. "Let me up!" he gasped.

"Not until you calm down and listen to what I have to say," said Shizuo.

Izaya immediately went lax in an attempt to convince Shizuo to allow him to sit up again.

"Listen," muttered Shizou, and his voice was low, as if trying to reason to a small child. It made Izaya want to barf and then stick some needles in the man's eyes, but somehow his voice did have a calming effect despite Izaya's attempted resistance. "I know this is extremely uncomfortable for you, as it is for me, but Shinra gave me directions on how to do this. I have antibiotic ointment and I need to apply it to where you could be torn inside. It needs to be done twice a day. I know you don't want to be reminded of what happened, and I know this will probably remind you. But I want you to remember that this is me, and I won't hurt you. This is so you can heal."

Izaya gritted his teeth together and cursed through them, but when Shizuo removed his hand from his head he remained laying down. He gripped the sheets beneath him as if all his willpower to stay still was in his fingertips. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think about something else, but the only thing that flooded his mind when he closed his eyes were the memories of before.

Shizuo smoothed his buttocks apart and gently stuck a finger coated with antibiotic ointment inside. It didn't hurt as much as Izaya was expecting, it was just cold. Still Izaya could not stop the moan that slipped out of his throat or the way his legs began to grow week and tremble. Tears oozed out of his eyes and he hated himself for it.

He hated himself, he hated himself, he wanted to die.

It only lasted a second, and then Shizuo pulled his hand away. It was cold inside, and the cold somehow numbed out the pain.

"Is it okay?"asked Shizuo, and his voice was laced with concern. Izaya stayed face, down, gripping the blankets, too mortified to look up, But he nodded anyway.


End file.
